Delicate, written in a garden.

Delicate, written in a garden.

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jul 30, 2021
Jasmine. And it is when I bought this empty book of true tongue to be, I plastered it with dead scented jasmine. My ink black and depth and dark, I sit sweet jazz in my ear as the dead petals drop through beige pages.
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This is a book, comprised of words in which are slowly becoming unforgotten upon my heart. They have been trapped here for far too long and it's time that I shared them with the world. So come, dare to look within the depths of my very soul as I paint the truest colors of others, and the world alike around us. Within this book you will find the truest definition of everything I've come to realize, so I hope that you as-well will fall in love with them as I have. Who knows, perhaps within these cinder fragments you shall find pieces of yourself here too.

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